Laying on the ground at the foot of the dumpster is a clear glass vase filled with a dozen red roses. Complete with all the greenery and Baby’s Breath, there is a red and black teddy bear lashed to the vase with sheer red ribbon. Tethered to the bear, a shiny helium filled Mylar “Happy Birthday” balloon, dancing in the breeze.

The roses are fresh. New. All that’s missing is the water. In the August heat, sans water they won’t be fresh for long.

People rescue dogs. And birds that get blown from the nest. What do you do when you find fresh roses next to a dumpster, dying of thirst?

I guess it’s their lucky day. I love roses. I used to work for a company that imported long stem roses from Ecuador. If I leave these beauties out here in the dirt, I won’t sleep tonight. So I take them in, re-cut the stems and fill the vase with water. They sit awkwardly on my table, rescued to be sure. Yet in a place they never expected to be.

Oh, that the roses would talk to me. Were they too little too late? Were they not enough? Were they an “I’m sorry I forgot your birthday and that’s why there’s a teddy bear on here, too?” Were they gladly received only to be tossed after a birthday party turned ugly? Or were they given to someone to whom nothing is ever good enough, a gift doomed to futility from the start?

Why on the ground? If one is angry enough to throw away a brand new vase of red roses why not give full vent and smash them in the dumpster? Why lay them on their side for a slow death? If you’re going to throw something away, why not all the way?

However it is, the roses and the teddy bear aren’t where they thought they’d be.

At some point in life, we all find ourselves in a place we never thought we’d be. Maybe we weren’t enough for someone. Maybe an illness steals our ability to physically enjoy our favorite activities. Or a pink slip downsizes us out of a career. Or maybe we derailed ourselves by our own bad choices.

However we ended up by the dumpster, we’re here.

People rescue dogs. And birds that get blown from the nest. And guys like me rescue roses on the ground.

God rescues people.

God rescues people. And it doesn’t matter where He finds us. By the dumpster. Or in the dumpster. Whether someone tossed us aside or we threw ourselves there, God rescues us.

The irony of being rescued from a place we never thought we’d be is that God will take us to places we never thought we’d go.

How wonderful is that?

Thank you, God, for rescuing us.

It’s our lucky day.

“And God showed His great love for us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” – Romans 5:8

Todd A. Thompson – ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

On this particular day life was pouring in more than usual. Like the way I used to feel shoveling through a giant drift after an Iowa blizzard. I’d finally see sidewalk when a big chunk would bust loose from the top and I’d be up to my boots again in snow.

Some days you just can’t shovel fast enough.

I was telling God about my plight and wondering out loud why it seemed to me that He wasn’t as aware of my situation as I thought He should be. I mean, God, if you’re not going to help me shovel can you at least keep the stuff from pouring in so fast?

A little help here, maybe?

It was time to go pick up my kids from school. I opened the door about half way and that’s when it caught my eye. The mirror. I closed the door and looked again. Nothing there.

Ok, I know I only have one eye but thanks to a contact lens, it works reasonably well. I know I saw something in that mirror.

I opened the door and glanced again at the mirror, this time the way I used to look at the old 3-D baseball cards that came in the cereal boxes when I was a kid. Up, down, sideways. And there it was. There were words on the mirror. Almost invisible, and because of the light in the room I couldn’t see it unless I looked from an angle and even then the letters only faintly showed themselves against the reflection of my black t-shirt.

“Serve the Lord with all your heart and consider the great things He has done for you.” – 1 Samuel 12:24

Whoever stayed here before had scrawled this verse on the mirror with lipstick or some other oil based marker. The mirror had since been cleaned, yet at the right angle in the right light, the message remained.

This verse, in context, is the prophet Samuel exhorting the people of Israel during the coronation of King Saul. In his speech he reminds Israel of God’s faithfulness to them through every generation. From Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses and Aaron, God had remained faithful to them in spite of their sins and disobedience. Even their asking for a king was a sin against God, preferring a human leader instead of God as their King.

Samuel makes the point that even in their short-sighted and often stubborn disobedience, God’s love for them continues. Because God is faithful to Himself, He is faithful to them. Through it all, God did great things for them.

Back in 2008, I was starting life over from scratch in a new place and with a new sales job. I do dinner shows for people and sell high-end cookware. In following up on a contact, the girl on the other end of the phone asked me if I traveled to Snyder, Texas. I said, “I sure do.” Now, I’d never heard of Snyder let alone have a clue how far away it was. But when you’re starting over, you do whatever you have to do. That dinner generated my first customer in that area and led to more dinners which led to many more customers in Snyder, TX. And with each dinner God put me in front of some of the kindest, good-hearted, hospitable and encouraging people I’ve ever met.

When last year I was unsuccessful in my efforts to prevent my daughters’ mom from moving them away from me, I was incredibly discouraged. Instead of being 5 minutes across town, they would now be attending school 85 miles from me. I have equal time with my daughters, but how would it work? Where would I stay when I came to be with them? How would we have a place to be together?

Back in 2008 I thought Snyder was just the place God had me working for a season. I thought I was just meeting new people in the course of my job. I had no idea that He was preparing for what would happen to me two years later. God was preparing future relationships that He would use to encourage us in ways we could not imagine.

The mirror with the ghost writing is in a guest house in Snyder, Texas, the town in which my daughters attend school. It belongs to dear friends who started out as customers back in 2008. When I confided my situation to them last year, they said, “We have a place in our backyard. You and the girls can stay here anytime you want.”

“…and consider the great things He (God) has done for you.”

Is God aware of my plight? The ghost writer left behind the obvious answer to that question. “Consider the great things God has done for you.” God is more than aware. He is involved. His faithfulness toward us never ceases. His love toward us is constant. His attention to detail is complete. God, forgive me when I fail to consider the great things You have done for me. Give me eyes to see You and the works of Your hands in my life.

As much as I like things squeaky clean, I’m only going to Windex the bottom half of that mirror.

Some messages should never be erased.

Todd A. Thompson – ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

Rock piles.

Depending on the lay of the farmer’s land, before planting crops it’s sometimes necessary to harvest rock. The freezing of winter and the thawing of spring brings to the surface of the ground stones that were previously hidden. Some are hand-sized. An easy grab and pitch into a skid loader bucket or onto a flatbed trailer. Others require two hands, a knee bend and a strong back. And on rare occasion, one needs to be pulled out with a tractor and a log chain.

Say the phrase “pick rock” to any Iowa farm kid and they know exactly what you’re talking about.

The reason for picking rock is simple. Come harvest time you don’t want a field stone to go screaming through the internal gears of a John Deere combine that could be traded even up for one of your nicer homes in Scottsdale, Edina, or Lake Forest. So to avoid costly down time and expensive repairs, you walk the field and move the rock to an out of the way place.

My Uncle Ev and Aunt Katherine had a rock pile on their farm. We kids called it “The Mountain”. We played regularly on it. It seemed so big. Go back there now and it’s still there, a memorial to a literal century of hard work and successful farming. When we look at it, we remember.

Joshua 4 is one of my favorite accounts in the Bible. It’s where God rolls back the waters of the Jordan River to allow the people of Israel to walk across on dry ground. God instructs them to build a monument of 12 stones to mark the event. He had a specific reason. “…in the future, when your children ask you, “What do these stones mean?” tell them that the flow of the Jordan was cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord. When it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever.” -(Joshua 4:6-7)

God knows that His humans have short memories. That’s why He wanted them to set up the 12 stones as a reminder of the miracle He did. That rock pile was for remembering the great work He had done for them.

This Thanksgiving season as I count my blessings, it occurs to me that I’ve done a lot of worrying this year. A lot of asking God why He seems so slow to respond in certain areas of my life. And if I’m honest, no small amount of doubt and anxiety. Wondering sometimes silently and sometimes in full voice, “God, are you gonna take care of me?”

The irony, of course, is that I’ve done my worrying and doubting and whining while sitting squarely on top my rock pile. Those stones of good health, food to eat, a place to live, a car to drive, healthy children, opportunities to earn a living, friends old and new, wonderful parents, a church family, and multiple moments of God’s grace and mercy, dropped into my life at a point of need and always above and beyond what I could ask or imagine.

What audacity. To sit atop my rock pile of blessings, lifetime proof of God’s faithful provision, and wonder if He will come through for me this time?

Perhaps there is more symbolism to the stones than I realize. Could it possibly be God’s inside joke of what a blockhead I can be?

God, please forgive my arrogance of distrusting You while surrounded by your tangible blessings. This Thanksgiving help me to be mindful that You are forever faithful, my Source and my Provider. When I wonder, when I doubt, remind me to look at the rock pile that You’ve built in my life and renew my faith and trust, because You are faithful and true.

Here’s hoping you take a good long look at your rock pile.

Happy Thanksgiving.

“The Lord is gracious and righteous; our God is full of compassion. The Lord protects the simplehearted; when I was in great need He saved me. Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the Lord has been good to you.” – Psalm 116:5-7

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

After the sun and sugar had their way the girls were ready to go home. We loaded our loot from the silent auction into the car and rolled down 19th Street, happily chatting about how fun it was to smash confetti eggs on people’s heads and when we were going to use the movie tickets we’d just won.

In mid-sentence Annie said, “Whoa, Daddy. Funeral.”

We all looked to the right. Resthaven Cemetery. The familiar roll away green awning. A small group of people huddled in a semi-circle. An American flag fluttering in the wind in front of the honor guard from the VFW.

At 45 miles per hour the solemnity passed quickly.

We were all quiet for a moment. Even Annie and Emma, about to turn 8, seemed aware of the contrast. Just a few blocks away kids are running and laughing, playing ring toss and bouncing around on giant inflatable moon walks.

Such a short drive.

Near where I grew up in Iowa there is a quaint country church, surrounded by corn and soybean fields. A big shade tree sits on their property, the perfect spot for the playground equipment they erected…right next to their cemetery. Not even a fence to separate.

I recall thinking how odd to see monkey bars and swings so close to headstones. As if one has nothing to do with the other. Then a moment later realizing that, intentional or not, this was a picture of life. In the scope of eternity, the distance between the playground and the burial ground is shorter than we think. A quick ride down the slide and we’re bumping against the granite.

Glancing in the rear view mirror I see my daughters. My beautiful, sun-kissed, sweaty, sticky mess squirrely girlies.

Take them home.

Hug them.

Hose them off.

Hug them.

Eat lunch.

See if they’ll share some of their Pixy Stix while we watch Scooby Doo together and remember my childhood as I enjoy theirs.

It’s such a short drive.

“Teach us to number our days that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” – Psalm 90:12

Todd A. Thompson - www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

Several days ago I was taking some pictures and was able to photograph a honeybee burrowing into one of my Midas Touch roses. She hovered then disappeared into the center of the flower. I say “she” because all worker bees are female. (I know. That’s a great straight line for any female readers. Have fun with the punch lines, but please be kind to the men in your life.) After a couple minutes she moved on to another flower, carrying a load of pollen.

Individually, a honeybee is fascinating to observe. But the results of their corporate effort are astounding.

The average American consumes 1.3 pounds of honey per year. If we round it down to an even pound, what must honeybees do to produce one pound of honey?

According to the Texas A&M Department of Entomology, an average hive contains up to 50,000 bees. On a warm to hot day, half the worker bees go out to gather pollen and nectar. The other half of the bees stay inside the hive and have the job of providing the air conditioning. A honeybee’s wings move at approximately 11,400 strokes per minute, hence the “buzz” you hear. Thousands of bees moving their wings at such speed actually causes the temperature inside the hive to be about 10 degrees cooler than it is outside.

The bees rotate duties. Bees that cool the hive one day are gatherers the next. To make one pound of honey, worker bees must collect nectar from 2 million flowers. 2 million flowers! And in collecting the nectar for that one pound of honey, they fly a combined 55,000 miles. That’s one and a half times around the world. All to make just one pound of honey.

Since the average worker bee makes about 1/12th of a teaspoon of honey in her lifetime, it’s pretty clear that honeybees are better together than they are alone. Alone they can’t produce enough honey to flavor a cup of tea. Together, they take care of themselves and in the process produce enough honey for everyone in the country to have a jar in the pantry.

A healthy beehive is full of bees, honey, honeycomb and activity. What you won’t find in a bee hive is ego. Be they queen bee, drones or workers, all the insects do their job. The bee in the photograph had a hive to go back to at night because 25,000 co-workers stayed behind to protect it and keep it cool. The honey she produced was a team effort.

As humans, we tend to think of our accomplishments as individual in nature. Yet be assured, wherever you are today and whatever position you’ve attained, you didn’t get there on your own. There are no self-made men. No self-made women.

If you’re a top notch sales manager you wouldn’t be noticed without the reps on your team consistently putting up great numbers.

If you’re a respected teacher you owe something to the elementary teacher who taught you to read.

If you’re a scholar, you earned your PhD and contributed to the body of collective knowledge only after reading the works of the masters. Or, as Toynbee put it, “we see farther when standing on the shoulders of giants”.

If you’re a master mechanic, you likely attribute some of your skills to your Dad who let you slide under the Chevy on the creeper and watch him turn a wrench.

If you’re a good parent, you owe something to those older and wiser who cared enough to impart their wisdom and life experience from raising their own kids.

Above all, you and I owe everything to a gracious God whose faithfulness is great and whose mercies are new every morning. (Lamentations 3:21-23)

Wherever we are and whatever we achieve is due to our hard work, persistence and the contributions of others in our life. Alone, we are, well…alone. Together we accomplish great things. We are better together.

This week take time to reflect on the people who have contributed significantly to your life. Then write a note of thanks to them or give them a call and tell them specifically what they did for you and what you learned from them. In doing so you’ll encourage them beyond measure.

Because no one ever forgets hearing these sweet words:

“You made a difference in my life.”

“No, Annie. You’re five now. Happy Birthday!”

For weeks Annie and Emma have been talking about how they would soon be five years old. Now that the day is here, they seem a tiny bit wistful pondering that being five means they are no longer four. I understand that. We look forward to arriving and when we do we can’t help but look back.

Driving them to pre-school, we stop at Fry’s Grocery to buy some cookies to share with their classmates. Annie and Emma announce to the checkout clerk that today is their birthday and they are now five years old.

“Really? If it’s your birthday then you need balloons!” An attentive employee walking by hears the conversation and is back in a flash with two balloons, one pink and one orange. The girls giggle, toss a thank you over their shoulder and bounce out the door.

We are pulling out of the parking lot when my Dad calls. He can barely find the words to say that Steve Logemann, a high school acquaintance of mine, has died in a farm accident.

Steve was a couple grades ahead of me at North Kossuth High School. I didn’t know him well except to say hi to him in the hall between classes. He was very tall and very nice. The kind of person your parents would describe as “a good kid”.

Two years ago and 23 years removed from our high school days I received an email from Steve. Somehow one of my “Slice of Life” columns had found its way to his inbox and he asked to be added to the distribution list. Steve and his wife Gail now had four kids and a family website with pictures of their Iowa farm and of their children. The website is called www.twinkleye.com, a not so subtle reference to the Biblical passage in 1 Corinthians 15 that speaks about how believers in Jesus Christ will be changed in the “twinkling of an eye” when He returns. And that because of Jesus’ death on the cross, “death is swallowed up in victory”.

Pressing the end button on my cell phone, I turn right on to 40th Street. Annie and Emma are chattering happy twin talk in the back seat. Driving a little slower than normal, I look around. Palm trees are swaying and gray clouds are rolling on an unusually cool and windy Phoenix day. A phone company technician bends over a junction box, making repairs. Kids with packs on their backs and I-Pod’s in their ears head for the bus stop. A McDonald’s semi truck on its way with a supply of everything needed to make Big Macs and Egg McMuffins. Two ladies aerobic speed walking down the sidewalk. A Dad pushing a stroller. And me driving my kids to preschool on their 5th birthday before going off to work.

The thing about death is that it happens in the middle of life.

Pulling into the school parking lot the kids unbuckle their seat belts and we do what we always do. We have a little talk. We talk about how important it is to be a good friend to others, to be respectful of their teachers, to take care of each other and to remember that they can talk to God anytime about anything. On this day I add that 5 years ago my whole life changed when God blessed me with their lives. I tell them how proud I am of them and how much I love them. We hug for a little longer than usual.

Getting out of the car, Emma says, “Daddy, let’s let the balloons go and watch them go high in the sky.”

“Is that ok with you, Annie?”

“That’s a great idea! I go first!”

“Ok, go ahead…no. Wait Annie. Please. Just a second. Daddy needs to get something.”

Maybe it’s because today is their birthday. Maybe it’s because I’m thinking about Steve’s wife and kids and how terribly much they are going to miss their Daddy. Maybe it’s because with all my formal theological training I don’t have a single satisfying answer as to why bad things happen to good people. Maybe it’s because all of the above makes me remember that life is short and oh so unpredictable.

Whatever it was made me grab the camera.

“Ok, girls! Let ‘em go!”

Annie was right. It was a great idea. We watched them dance into the clouds and out of sight.

Happy Birthday, Annie and Emma. I love you more than you’ll ever know.

See you later, Steve. Thanks for reminding me to look forward to the “twinkle eye” time. You’ve arrived. I’m sure there’s lots to do on your first day in heaven, but if you happen to see a couple of pink and orange balloons float by, just know they’re from friends in Phoenix who are looking forward to the day of no more looking back.

“Show me, O Lord, my life’s end and the number of my days; let me know how fleeting is my life.”
-Psalm 39:4

“Thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” – 1 Corinthians 15:57